The Mistletoe Waltz
by Baron Munchausen
Summary: Total non-canon Christmassy fluff. Written for the Mistletoe Challenge 2012. Set at the Servants' Ball Christmas Eve 1919. In this story, Sir Anthony and Lady Edith have never met before this night. What might have happened if Sir Anthony had been forced to confess his feelings for Lady Edith before he got worried he wasn't good enough for her? MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!


_**A/N: What if Sir Anthony was forced into declaring his feelings for Lady Edith before he started obsessing about how unsuitable he was for her?**_

_**This Christmas story is completely AU but takes place at the Servants' Ball on Christmas Eve 1919. Anthony and Edith didn't meet in 1914, nor did Violet invite Anthony to tea around Christmas 1919. Bates wasn't arrested. Anthony did serve in the Great War and was injured as per canon.**_

_**Many thanks to Genevieve for Anthony's wonderful friend Archie Mathers, whom I haven't treated terribly well here, I admit, poor man. But I still think he's rather lovely. And thanks too to WisdomState for the idea about dancing.  
**_

_**MERRY CHRISTMAS!  
**_

* * *

_**.**_

"We just don't have enough upstairs gentlemen, and that's a fact" stated Cora to her husband one morning two weeks before the Servants' Ball.

"Does it really matter if some of the housemaids have to wait a bit to dance with me or Matthew?"

"Yes, it does. This is the one time of the year when we do something for them, and they look forward to it so. They need to feel appreciated, now more than ever. So, who can we invite? What about the Hon. Gerald Davenport-Hines?"

Robert looked mildly disgusted. "I don't think the housemaids will thank you. He's five foot in all directions with bad breath. There's the Calendar-Becketts?"

"No" Cora answered "it has to be a bachelor. A couple wouldn't even things out. Colonel Chesterton?"

"He can hit a penny at fifty paces with a pistol, but can't dance for toffee. I once actually saw him tread on some poor girl's toes; and he must weigh about sixteen stone. What do you think about Archie Mathers?"

"He's usually in London for Christmas, but I'll ask. That leaves Sir Anthony Strallan. There's not a great deal of choice, is there, thanks to the war?

"Oh, Anthony's not so bad once you get to know him" replied Robert. "A bit wishy-washy perhaps, but there's not a nasty bone in his body. I think he'd do fine for the kitchen staff."

* * *

.

Anthony regarded the invitation with some nervousness. It was a backhanded compliment to be asked to make up the numbers at the Downton Abbey Servants' Ball, and that was bad enough. But the Crawleys obviously hadn't heard about his war injury which would make it rather difficult to dance properly. He hadn't had any cause to attempt dancing for years, so didn't really know if it was possible, however embarrassing. However, he mused, it was always useful to be owed a favour by the Crawleys. One never knew when it might come in handy. There were worse ways of spending an evening during the dark winter days. So he accepted.

* * *

.

"Hello Anthony, long time no see."

Anthony Strallan turned from collecting a glass of mulled wine to see his old friend Archie Mathers who, it turned out, was in Yorkshire for Christmas after all.

"Hello Archie. It's nice to see a kindred spirit."

"You got roped in as well? Or are you just chasing a nice bit of housemaid for the night?" Archie always did make the most outrageous jokes, Anthony remembered. It wasn't nasty in any way. He just liked to overdo it to embarrass one into being witty in defence. _But __I'm not sure I'm quite up to that yet_, thought Anthony.

"As you can see" said Anthony indicating his sling "there is no point to my chasing any women ever again."

"I'm sorry, old chap" replied Archie genuinely feeling for his old friend. "The cross I have to bear is even less promising for _chasing_." He hit a stiff leg, quite viciously and bitterly, with his walking stick. "What a couple we are to invite to a dance, eh? My leg's getting better, gradually, but I'm not going to trip the light fantastic tonight, no matter how pretty the girl."

"I don't suppose Lady Grantham knew. But at least we made the effort."

"And we can entertain the young ladies with our war stories until Lord Grantham is ready to lead them through the mazurka?!"

"I'm sure they'll be thrilled, Archie" responded Anthony humourlessly.

As tradition demanded, Mrs Hughes and Lord Grantham danced first, followed by Carson and Lady Grantham. The rest of the staff politely approached the rest of the Crawley family in turn, so that when there were only the lowliest kitchen and house maids left they had a choice of Sir Anthony and Archie Mather. Despite the girls' obvious reluctance Anthony and Archie approached them and made polite conversation, which they hoped would cover any embarrassment. After that dance Archie found himself talking to Bates and comparing dancing capabilities, so that was him settled for the night.

Anthony went to refill his punch cup, passing by Mrs. Patmore and Daisy as he did so. He couldn't help hearing.

"Go on girl. He's not going to eat you" the cook whispered.

"I don't want to dance with _him_" Daisy replied.

"At least he's got two good legs, unlike the other poor gentleman. And you must say they are good looking, both of them. Lady Grantham went to so much trouble to make sure you girls all had someone to dance with."

"Just a pity she didn't try them out first" put in Thomas as he took Daisy's hand to lead her to the floor.

Anthony quickly found a dark alcove under the stairs almost hidden by a thick velvet curtain to sit in. He caught his breath better without being seen. It was over a year since the end of the war, but he was still taken off guard by that sort of thing. It still hurt. Perhaps it always would. _So, truly, this is what the rest of my life will be like: pity and disgust from everyone I meet, lords, ladies, cooks, and kitchen maids. Even if I do have two good legs! I need to make my excuses and get away…_

He was thinking what excuse would be least humiliating to all concerned when his darkened alcove suddenly held another figure. It was Lady Edith, the middle Grantham daughter. She almost sat in his lap before she realised anyone was there.

"Oh, I'm sorry." She made to leave again.

"No, please…I…there's room for us both" he said, budging up.

"Sir Anthony, isn't it? What are you doing hiding in here?" she said, sitting next to him.

He responded to her open honesty more readily than he would have a more well-mannered, less direct enquiry.

"Hiding? Yes, I suppose I am. To be truthful, I was nursing a wound delivered to me by some of the kitchen staff. Silly, I know. One can face the Germans well enough but a slight like that…_stings_."

She put her hand on his arm…his _bad_ arm, he noticed…"I'm so sorry. I'll speak to them."

"No, please don't. It's only natural." He hastened to change the subject. "From what, may I ask, are you hiding, Lady Edith?"

She couldn't see his face well in the shadows. It might have been this that led her to be honest in return.

"This is my usual hiding place; has been since I was a child. Tonight, I'm hiding from the obvious romantic bliss that my elder sister is enjoying with Matthew Crawley."

"Why should you want to hide from that?"

"Because she always gets what she wants. I don't begrudge her Matthew, truly I don't, because I think she actually loves _him_, but all the others she toyed with and cast aside, especially any who showed any interest in me…any one of them would have made me a good husband, if only they could've seen past her to look at me. But they were all dazzled by her."

"Well, then, surely if Matthew proposes and Mary accepts him, the field will be clear for you? Isn't that a good thing?"

"Really? Do you think anyone's going to look at me with Mary around, even a married Mary?"

Something in her quiet desperation touched his soul, and answered his own silent longings.

"Yes. I would."

It was said so simply, so definitely, it took her breath away. She leaned into the shadows to look at Sir Anthony more closely.

"Are you sure you know which Crawley sister you're talking to?"

"Lady Edith, yes? The blonde, beautiful one?"

No one had ever addressed her so. He heard her slight sniffle in the darkness, and found a purpose again.

"Would you do me the honour of dancing with me, Lady Edith? At least, trying out with me whether it's still possible for a cripple like me?"

"I would be delighted, Sir Anthony. And I'm sure you dance beautifully."

In the glare of the hall lights once more they regarded each other with mingled interest and suspicion, as though the last five minutes had been shared with someone else. However, Edith's love of puzzles got the better of her and she began thinking about how a proper ballroom hold could be achieved for Anthony.

"If we moved your sling, would that be a problem for you? Would it hurt?"

"There's no pain. It just keeps the wretched thing out of the way."

She took the sling over Sir Anthony's head and hung it on her left shoulder, using her left hand to steady his right arm. This gave the effect of his right hand holding her waist, exactly as it should. Anthony looked down at what she'd done in amazement.

"Goodness! Such a simple and elegant solution. You are clearly very clever at solving practical conundrums like this."

"Not bad I suppose. I learned to drive cars, tractors, and all sorts of mechanical vehicles during the war, and how to use them to do things like pull out tree stumps. I like the challenge and the satisfaction when I get it right."

"Lady Edith, may I hire you for my estate? I could really do with someone like you!"

She giggled delightedly.

They took their position for the next waltz. _Here's the next challenge_, thought Anthony. _Can I remember how to dance a waltz?_ But it all came back once the music began. About half way through, he suddenly realised what had happened. He was dancing with a beautiful woman in his arms. _Arms, plural_. It had been so many, many years since he'd been in a similar position. There had been times in the last few years when he thought he'd be dead before anything like this happened to him again, from a German bullet, or merely old age. He gazed into Edith's deep brown eyes and wondered if, in fact, he _had_ died and gone to heaven without his noticing. She was so different from all the other Crawley girls, actually from all other women he'd ever met. Edith was awkward, talented in such unusual ways, yet she danced divinely, was startlingly beautiful, and kind hearted. At least, that had to be the explanation for why she was dancing with him, even though her eyes had not left his for the duration of the dance. The music ended and he raised her hand to his lips delicately.

"Thank you Lady Edith. That was worth coming home from war for."

She blushed slightly and murmured "Thank you, Sir Anthony." Before anything more could be said, Daisy barrelled in to Sir Anthony with "May I dance with you, Sir Anthony? You're actually quite good." The kitchen staff had watched Anthony and Edith; now they all wanted to dance with him, and Daisy had got there first.

"I'd be delighted, Miss…?"

"Daisy" said Edith and Daisy together.

"Miss Daisy" finished Anthony, jolted back to his official reason for being there. His polished manners didn't allow him to smile at Daisy's faux pas, but it didn't stop Edith grinning. She wandered back to the side of the hall to watch Anthony attempting to lead Daisy through a polonaise.

Edith took another sip of her punch, and forced herself to look at Sir Anthony Strallan as a woman might meeting him for the first time in the normal way, not in the dark under the stairs. He was very tall, over six foot, with fair hair just greying at the temples. He wasn't quite as graceful when dancing as she had thought him at first, when he was partnering her, but he wasn't bad (_as Daisy said_, she smiled to herself). _Perhaps with me he was making a special effort_, she hoped. His most striking features were his eyes, and his smile. His eyes were incredibly blue, and his smile lit up his face from relative plainness to breathtaking handsomeness. She saw him flick his eyes towards her for a moment, and her heart leapt. _I can't believe I've just fallen in love at first sight. But I have._

The dance ended, the next few came and went, along with a queue of maids and, memorably, Mrs. Patmore for the Polka. Then Anthony looked around to find Edith, but she was deep in conversation with her grandmother. He declined all offers for the next dance claiming that he needed to have a breather, and sat on the edges of the hall, watching the dancing. At least that's what he told himself. In reality he was watching Edith. _I can't believe I've just fallen in love at first sight. Surely I'm too old for that sort of nonsense. But she's…_he swallowed hard_…wonderful! I know nothing about her, whether she's engaged or if someone's in line for her: nothing. She felt so downtrodden by Mary, but I have no idea why. Mary's a cold fish and she leaves me just as cold. Whereas Edith is warm and intelligent and gorgeous, yet vulnerable and all I want to do is hold her and reassure her and, oh God, worship her! I'm a lost cause. This cannot be happening._

The next dance was another waltz and he quickly crossed the floor to ask Edith again. He stood in front of her very straight, and then bowed to her with manners from another age.

"Would you give me the pleasure of another dance, Lady Edith?"

"That would be delightful, thank you Sir Anthony."

She rearranged his arm and sling as before, and they were waiting for the music to begin when the bandleader announced that this would be the Mistletoe Waltz. A ripple of excitement fluttered across the hall. Edith blushed a deeper shade of red and avoided Anthony's eyes as he asked "What does that mean?"

"It's a Downton tradition. The band chooses a dance at random to announce as the Mistletoe dance, and whoever you are dancing with at that moment, you must…kiss under the mistletoe before the evening ends."

Only then did she trust herself enough to look up at him, to see him blush furiously himself, gazing at her with his sapphire eyes in disbelief. _Oh, he is lovely!_

Now he really _had_ to know. "Won't your intended object?"

"I thought I'd made it clear, Sir Anthony, nobody wants me."

"I do" he thought. Or at least he'd meant only to think it. But she was looking at him with shock and…something else in her eyes…and he was mortified to realise that he'd actually said it aloud.

The music began: the tango-waltz Corazón de Oro*. Anthony didn't dare hesitate, but trying to cover for his blunder, he launched into what he could remember of the footwork, keeping to the waltz steps otherwise, his eyes never leaving Edith's. _One night more when I'm young and foolish…well youngish and certainly foolish_ he thought. _I'll come to my senses in the morning, but tonight I think anything could happen. I could almost believe it if I saw the Ghost of Christmas Present right here._

The dance ended with an accelerando. Anthony held Edith firmly and span her round and round faster and faster, making them both feel dizzy and breathless with their exertions and daring. Anthony kissed her hand once more, closing his eyes in unbelieving happiness; she thanked him again, more hesitantly and huskily than before. Their reluctance to part was overtaken by the others gathering to sing carols around the Christmas tree. During the second carol, he looked round, saw no one was watching them, then seized Edith's hand and led her surreptitiously out to the entrance lobby where the mistletoe was hanging. He took a deep, bracing breath and turned to her.

"I wanted us to have a little privacy. So while they are all singing, may I?…only if you want me to, of course…" he voice died away into uncertainty.

But she was looking up at him so deliciously. She moved towards him taking his sling and placing it on her shoulder so his dead arm was around her, as if to dance, in encouragement. He lost himself in all his newfound feelings and kissed her.

He had meant it to be quite proper and chaste. But the moment his lips met hers he felt every nerve in his body jolt and tingle. His senses swam; he put his good arm around her and pulled her close to him, kissing her much more urgently than was good for either of them.

Edith whimpered softly against his mouth from pure joy, and clasped his shoulders and neck nearer to her. His soft blonde hair was delicious between her fingers. His kiss was intoxicating, exciting, imperious. This gorgeous, handsome, gentle man really wanted her, and oh heavens how she wanted him.

When they parted she thought he would draw back, but instead he began kissing her neck, causing her almost to faint.

"Oh Anthony…" the shivering sigh came out unbidden, but it thrilled Anthony to his core, and more than he could control. He kissed her again, pushing her into the shadows to lean against the oak panelling so he could press his body closer to hers unseen by the carollers in the next room.

"Edith, I must see you tomorrow" he said between kisses.

"Oh yes, Anthony, please."

"I will have something to ask you."

"Why can't you ask me now?"

"Because I dare not believe that you will feel the same way in the cold light of day, when we aren't both covered by a sprinkling of Christmas fairy dust."

"Then you don't know me very well yet."

"That is all too true. But I so want to. Let me come back in the morning, even if it is Christmas?"

"If you want to do it that way, of course I should love to see you."

"My love…this has all happened far too quickly."

"No it hasn't. We've both been waiting for it, for far too long, not believing it would ever come."

"How do you know me so well?"

"I don't. But I so want to."

He smiled at her echoing of his words. They did know each other, they were sure. It was like finding the other half of yourself: they only had to fill in the details.

"Then we shall take the time to do so before I ask that question."

"Fair enough; but let's not start being sensible tonight. Please?" Her eyes betrayed a desire that would be denied.

His voice breaking he answered "As my lady wishes" before kissing her again. And again. And again. Until midnight struck.

"Merry Christmas, darling Edith."

"Merry Christmas, Anthony darling."

* * *

.

* If you look this lovely tango-waltz (sometimes called tango-vals) up on Spotify or YouTube, make sure you listen to the original version by Francisco Canaro who wrote it, or the best cover version (IMHO) by Los Violines De Oro Del Tango.


End file.
